


The Emancipation of Credence Barebone

by ei_dolon



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ei_dolon/pseuds/ei_dolon
Summary: “The Statute of Secrecy is very clear on such matters." replies Piquery. "He is responsible for the death of at least one no-maj, discounting all the others he may have injured tonight. I can only promise that he will be treated as the law commands.”Credence avoids death at the hands of the Aurors in the subway tunnel only to end up in a MACUSA cell with a sentence on his head.





	The Emancipation of Credence Barebone

“Credence, _no_!”

At the sound of Tina’s voice, the Obscurus hesitates, tendrils withdrawing into itself. The tunnel echoes with its eerie, nails-on-chalkboard shriek–a sound vaguely reminiscent of a human voice, crying out in pain. It’s a reminder that this terrifying creature is nothing but a frightened child, betrayed and scorned at every turn.

“Don’t do this.” Tina pleads, blinking back tears. “Please.” 

Arms still raised to shield himself, Newt remains prostrate on the subway rails, gaze fixed intently on the swirling mass. Beside him, Graves watches but doesn’t speak, one hand tightly grasping his wand. Neither of them move.

“Keep talking, Tina.” Newt advises. “He’ll listen to you–he’s listening.”

She steps forward, never looking away, each motion cautious and deliberate. “I know what that woman did to you. I know that you’ve suffered.”

Deep inside the swirling mass, Credence listens. He _remembers_. This woman–she showed him kindness when no one else would. And for that, he trusts her.

“But you need to stop this now.”

_What if I can’t_ , he reasons, and wishes he could speak the words out loud. Wishes he could do anything other than hurt and destroy, be anything else but what he is. 

Below him, the two wizards get to their feet. Immediately, Credence finds his attention diverted towards Graves, suspicion and fear clawing their way up his throat. The Obscurus writhes uneasily, every instinct demanding that he run, escape to the safety of darkness and confined spaces. But he doesn’t–he forces himself to stay because deep down, he believes Tina when she promises to protect him.

“This man–“ she means Graves, of course–“he’s using you.”

The wizard in question offers a sharp rebuttal: “Don’t listen to her, Credence. I just want you to be free.” When he speaks again, his tone is softer. Almost affectionate. “It’s alright.”

Shrinking clearly takes an enormous effort; the Obscurus spirals inward like water being sucked down a drain. After a few tense seconds, Credence finally stands on the pile of rubble, solid once more. He wobbles in place, eyes rolling in their sockets, before collapsing in a heap on the concrete.

For a moment, no one moves. The subway is dead silent. Then, all at once come the hasty, staggering footfalls and rustling of shifted debris as the remaining threesome race to the top of the rubble pile. Graves grasps the back of Newt’s jacket in one meaty fist and thrusts him aside; at that, Tina rushes to his aid with a half-screamed _Expelliarmus_ that the elder wizard easily deflects. He returns the blow with a crackling bolt of electricity, causing Tina to duck and lose precious seconds as Graves advances toward the prone form of the Obscurial.

Newt doesn’t bother picking himself up from the ground, but digs in his pocket for a moment until he feels the Swooping Evil curling around his finger. Easily, he flicks it out from his hand and the beast expands to its full glory with a blood-curdling screech and launches itself at Graves. With an indignant shout, Graves raises his hands to shield himself, dropping his wand.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Tina clambers up the rubble pile, scraping her hands on concrete and exposed cables. She reaches Credence and instinctively shields him with her body, unsure if Graves still presents an immediate threat or is still being detained by Newt and his creature. (The strangled noises coming from behind her suggest the latter.) A quick glances tells her the boy is out cold, no doubt from exhaustion–she places a finger to his neck and is relieved to find a steady pulse.

“Credence? Credence, can you hear me?” It’s stupid question to ask an unconscious person, she knows, but the fact that he won’t wake up is more worrying than it should be. Unsure of what else to do–Queenie was the healer, not her, and how she wished her sister was here–Tina cradles his head in her hands and keeps talking.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now. Just-just open your eyes, okay?”

A bright flash of wand magic causes her to flinch; when she looks behind her, Graves is tied up with…something, and Newt is standing over him with just the slightest hint of a smug expression. The Swooping Evil soars overheadbefore returning at Newt’s whistle.

“How’s Credence?” Newt calls to her, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that he has just managed to subdue one of MACUSA’s most skilled wizards. “Is he alright?”

“He’s okay. Just out cold, I think–“

A clatter from the opposite end of the tunnel makes them all turn: Mme. Picquery and a dozen Aurors descend the subway stairs, wands raised. Had they arrived merely a few minutes earlier, things might have turned out very differently. Who knows what they would have done to Credence; Tina shudders at the thought. The entourage pauses at the sight of their Director of Magical Security, bound and on his knees with an expression of grim resignation.

“Mr. Scamander. Ms. Goldstein.” Picquery’s voice cuts like a whip across the expanse. “Would you mind explaining yourself?” She gazes around the decimated tunnel. “Where’s the Obscurial?”

“Ehm, in response to the first question, Madame President–“ Newt climbs up onto the platform. “We were attempting to–to protect the Obscurial. From Mr. Graves, that is.”

“They were interfering with MACUSA protocol.” Graves deflects the accusation in surprisingly dignified manner for a man in his current position. “The Obscurus was out of control. I was attempting to contain it before further damage could be done.”

“He’s lying.” Tina stands up. Newt turns to face her, and they lock eyes for a moment–she realizes that he has come to the same conclusion she has. Emboldened, she takes a deep breath and speaks. “Madame President, this man is not Percival Graves.”

Picquery’s expression never falters. “Have you any evidence to support that allegation?” she asks, coldly.

“I–“ Tina starts, but Newt has already drawn his wand and points it at Graves, his whispered _revelio_ barely reaching her ears, much less that of the Aurors.

Before them, Graves transforms, face warping and peeling away to reveal another man entirely. Tina recognizes him at once–how could she not? His face had been plastered on posters all over MACUSA for weeks, his name a poison in everyone’s ears. The bane of the wizarding world, a rogue, a zealot. Percival Graves himself had even departed for England with a team of Aurors to confront this man; supposedly, he’d been the only one who survived the encounter and had returned the next day with half-healed bruises on his face and a tragic tale of lost comrades. Now, she realizes, it is likely that no one survived at all.

Grindelwald smiles, and it makes her blood run cold.

Percival Graves is dead.

 

After that, things start to happen with alarming rapidity.

Half of the Aurors advance towards Grindelwald and surround him, pushing Newt aside (he’s not bothered at all, but watches the proceedings with some bemusement).

Mme. Picquery starts throwing out orders to the remaining group; the tunnel is immediately alive with movement and the loud _snapping_ of Disapparation.

Credence comes to with a shuddering gasp, prompting Tina to kneel back down beside him.

“Where is the Obscurial now?” Tina distantly hears Picquery’s demand but remains preoccupied with the fact that Credence isn’t fully aware of his surroundings and keeps pushing her away, making the most heartbreaking noises. He cowers with his hands shielding his face, giving her clear view of every line, every scar carved into the flesh of his palm and fingers. Rage burns deep in the pit of her stomach, and she almost wishes she were back in the church on the day when she revealed herself–she wouldn’t have just stopped at a simple Stunning spell, oh no. She would have given that woman exactly what she deserved.

“Credence, please. It’s alright. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.” Reluctantly, she pulls away and sits back, letting him work out his initial panic without the added stress of her constantly trying to touch him. After that, it only takes a minute or so for his breathing to slow and the whimpering to stop. When he pulls himself into a semi-upright position, leaning back on his elbows, Tina notices that he has a sizable gash on his temple and that his eyes are wide and unfocused. As untaught as she is in the world of healing magic, her mind immediately leaps to the possibility of a concussion.

“Credence…?”

He twitches, gaze finally coming to rest on her. Something like relief breaks across his face, and while the uneven quirk of his mouth cannot be remotely compared to a smile, it’s the happiest she’s seen him.

“Hey.” Tina doesn’t realize she’s started crying again until she smiles and feels the warmth tickling down her cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

Credence sits up, expression telling her that he has no idea where to even begin answering the question. Rather than making an attempt, he hunches over, gazing around at the decimated remains of the subway as though he just realized that it was his handiwork. A shudder goes through him, and he closes his eyes briefly.

When he does speak, his voice shakes. “I didn’t mean to.”

Tina isn’t normally prone to terms of endearment, but her sister is clearly rubbing off on her because the next words out of her mouth are “oh, honey” and then she’s wrapping him in a hug that has been a long time coming.

Neither of them notice the Aurors approaching until they’re a mere few feet away: two stern figures in leather trench coats, wands directed at the Obscurial in a wary gesture. Credence sees them and pulls away from Tina, who immediately stands up.

“Can I help you?” she asks, coolly.

The witch on the left eyes Credence nervously. “We need to take him in. President’s orders.” The pair step forward, and Tina returns the favor; they’re almost nose-to-nose and the tension is palpable. Newt watches from his vantage point on the platform, his curious demeanor vanished and replaced with quiet apprehension. She senses that, if need be, he would draw his wand and start the fight himself. The thought is comforting.

“Ms. Goldstein, stand aside.” commands the second Auror.

“No.” She holds out a hand protectively. “Arresting him won’t fix anything.” She has figured out by now that the Obscurus is primarily a reaction to its host being threatened. If the Aurors keep insisting, they could very well make matters worse and have them all diving for cover, escaping death by inches. She resists the urge to check behind her to make sure Credence is still whole–the sound of his ragged breathing affirms her suspicion, but doesn’t offer much hope of him staying that way for long.

“He is responsible for the death of a no-maj and the exposure of the wizarding community. Now move aside or we will be required to arrest you, as well.” The auror sounds bored, she notes. Clearly, having to explain this to an ex-auror is a task not worth his time. Below them on the platform, Newt steps forward, poised to intervene at any moment.

However, the female Auror grows tired of the delay. Instead of continuing pointless negotiations, she paces around Tina and fires off a quick _stupefy_ ; Credence is unconscious once more, and the two Aurors swiftly push their way past her. She whirls around, wand at the ready, just in time to see the trio Disapparate.

“No. No, no, no, _no._ ” Tina stumbles into the patch of thin air where Credence used to be, her grief rapidly bleeding into outrage. She turns towards Picquery, whose calm exterior has not fluctuated throughout the entire ordeal.“You can’t–you can’t let them do this! Madame President, I swear, he never meant to hurt anyone–“

“Ms. Goldstein, may I remind you that you are not an Auror anymore. You hold no jurisdiction here.” The Presidentturns her back on Tina, ending the conversation. The issue of more immediate concern is, of course, Grindelwald, along with the fact that hundreds of no-majs have just witnessed one of the most terrifying displays of magic in America’s history. This is a mistake not easily rectified, and everyone knows it.

Grindelwald is led away by a pair of Aurors–he whispers something to Newt just before he departs, but Tina doesn’t manage to catch it–and then the subway is all but empty except for Mme. Picquery and two other witches.

“The Obscurial was arrested on my orders.” she finally says, even though no one had directly asked for an explanation. “What happens to him is not a crucial matter at the moment, though it will be addressed in time.” Her gaze lands on the massive hole in the subway ceiling, and she purses her lips.“The magical community is exposed. And we cannot Obliviate an entire city.”

Newt lets out a polite cough, just loud enough to get her attention. “Madame President, if I may offer a solution?” He pauses as Picquery tips her head in the slightest indication of a nod. “I just so happen to have a flask of Swooping Evil venom–it has strong Obliviative properties, specifically the removal of bad memories.”

Picquery frowns. “How will that help us? We can’t give the venom to every no-maj on the street. It would take too much time.”

“Ah, you see, that’s where I need my case.”

“Queenie has the case.” Tina interjects. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Well, then, find your sister. Quickly.”

“One other thing, Madame President.“ Newt’s voice loses its light-hearted cadence. “Promise me that the boy– Credence–will be treated kindly. People like him, they don’t choose to become this way. And punishing him for that…” he trails off, expression pensive.

“I understand, Mr. Scamander.” replies Picquery. “Unfortunately, I cannot promise an absence of consequences. The Statute of Secrecy is very clear on such matters. Furthermore, he is responsible for the death of at least one no-maj, discounting all the others he may have injured tonight. I can only promise that he will be treated as the law commands.”

Given that both Tina and Newt’s last experience with American wizarding laws included a death sentence, neither are particularly reassured by the President’s statement. However, before either can object:

“Now find that case. We cannot afford to wait much longer.”


End file.
